


Good Detective Work

by winterkills00



Category: Afdeling Q | Department Q (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Carl is a prick, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterkills00/pseuds/winterkills00
Summary: Carl’s a good detective. Even after all he’s been through, he never lost his sense of awareness of a situation.
Relationships: Carl Mørck/Assad
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Good Detective Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Not betaed so some tense mistakes are likely, sorry! This is an old fic of mine and it might be a bit out of character. Also the danish parts just sound better in my head when I write it out.

Carl’s a good detective. Even after all he’s been through, he never lost his sense of awareness of a situation. It’s not a news flash that Assad is a good person, he has his aggressive issues that he tries to put a lid on but that’s no surprise considering his background. 

Which now he thinks of it, he couldn’t find a file on. You can’t get into the police force with streaks on your record so Assad was clean. On record at least. But he hasn’t always lived in Denmark and Carl’s fingers itch to know what’s hidden deep beneath that skull of his. 

That’s not what he’s pondering on today though, that’s too easy for him, daddy issues, violence crime, religion, whatever. It’s not the dangerous side of Assad he’s picking up on today. It’s the slight flush on his face. “If you’re sick you shouldn’t come in. I’m not your babysitter.” It makes Assad look up from his file, brow in a confused knot before he answers Carl. “I’m not.. sick?”

Carl smirks then, confirming his suspicion that the flush on Assad’s face that’s slowly creeping down his neck now is not from the flu. It’s most likely from ten minutes ago when Assad stumbled into Carl and dropped his files, Rose went to bend over and pick them up for Assad and they both got a clear view of her jean clad ass. 

Neither of them looked at it, Assad cus he’s still a fucking gentleman, Carl cus he’s not interested in playing games with Rose. But just cus Assad didn’t look directly at her he still bend down to help her, Hell their fingers even brushed and Carl felt a flutter of excitement about a new thing he could have on his colleagues. There was something else in his chest too, but that wasn’t important. It felt rusty and ugly, a little like jealousy but years of self hatred had made it easy to bury that kinda feeling.

Assad hurriedly looked back at his file again with a frown, clearly annoyed at Carl’s sudden desire to smile on a Tuesday night at 7 pm. Rose had left hours ago, leaving the left over pizza of their dinners for the boys for later. They still had a mountain of paper work to do and Carl could tell Assad was struggling.

It took another two hours before Assad spoke again. “Rose has a boyfriend.” Was all he said. Not even looking up from the file, the same one he was working on two hours ago because he had spend the time turning Carl’s words over in his head. It was clear Carl wanted to tease him about Rose for some reason but He wasn’t 100% sure where Carl was getting that from. Rose and Assad had grown close the past years, really close, but they were friends. Just that. 

Carl didn’t answer, he just gave Assad a pointed look over his stack of files, then back to his papers. Their office was quiet again for a bit before Assad tried again. “Besides, I’m already married.” That made Carl Perk up, his eyebrows curled in interest, slightly upset that this was such a shock to him. Assad started laughing, pleased that he could still make Carl do that face. “I’m joking Carl.” His kind smile and warm eyes made Carl want to break his pencil, instead he tugged it in his mouth, nibbling on it like a bad habit.

“Though I almost was married once. Arranged. But then we moved to Denmark.” He didn’t seem like he was going to share more and Carl didn’t want to admit how much it nagged on him that he wanted to know more. 

He pretended to not care, just staring at Assad with a bored look, the end of his pencil in his mouth. Assad stared back, and for a flicker of a second Carl saw his look turn down to his mouth and quickly back up again. Now that- that was interesting. More interesting than arranged marriages and Rose bend over a table in their office, Assad fucking her pregnant. Carl bit down harshly on the pencil at that scenario, sometimes he got crude ideas, nothing personal. Really.

Another hour went by and Carl found himself more interested in that thought than he cared to admit. Except, it wasn’t exactly how he wanted it. He wanted Assad to be bothered for some reason, god knows why Carl had these weird urges but he was a man of impulse decision so he got up from his chair. The creaking noise made Assad look up for a second but he just assumed Carl was gonna go for the cold left over pizza and some coffee. 

Instead Carl went to Assad’s desk and pointed the chewed pencil at him. “You weren’t flushing at Rose’ ass. You were flushing at mine.” Assad snorted, a little worried about the fact Carl came all the way over to his desk to tell him that joke. But he didn’t leave again, he just stood there, with an intense look in his eyes and a knowing tug of his lips. Assad didn’t wanna play those games with Carl, especially not this late and with all this work.

Carl persisted though, getting closer to Assad and being awfully domineering, standing over him like that. Assad finally turned to look at Carl, his eyes still so damn kind and calm. Like he was ready to take a nap on the desk before Carl came to interrupt him. So damn soft. Carl wanted to ruffle him so badly. 

“Jeg er ked af sige det Carl men ik alle syntes du så skide interessant.” (I’m sorry to tell you this Carl but not everyone finds you that fucking interesting) Assad turned his way, it’s his chance and he knows his partners police instincts are kicking in, Assad is tensing up, shoulders rising a bit as they are both reacting to Carl’s predatory smirk.

For some reason Assad can feel the hairs on his neck rise, Carl’s got this intense look on, like he’s about to attack him and Assad feels a bit like a lamb being cornered by a lion. Or a wolf? He can’t quiet remember how the saying goes but whatever it is, Carl looks like he’s loosing it. There’s a gleam in his eyes that says ‘go on- I fucking dare you’ but Assad doesn’t do that shit. 

Right as he thinks Carl’s gonna do something he turns away, which was probably even worse in Assads mind. “What the hell is wrong with you man?” He’s confused, about more than One thing and Carl’s just sitting down like nothing happened. Chewing his pencil and going right back to ignoring.

The thing is, Carl has already gotten what he wanted from that situation. He planted a seed in Assad’s mind and now all he has to do is wait patiently as his partner starts to doubt his sexuality. And when that time comes he’s gonna be ready. Ready to fuck things up more. Assad’s left cursing with a confused look on his face, but nonetheless they continue working. 

It’s only a few days later that Assad wakes up from a weird dream. He swears it should have been a nightmare but somehow he’s still hard. He touches his lips in the dark, a faint sensation of lips on his. It felt so real. There’s something tugging in his chest and he presses the heel of his hand into his eyes. It’s quiet in his room except for the faint sound of traffic down around Nørrebrogade (Main Street), making it impossible to know what time it is since there’s always traffic there.

He feels stupid. The sweat and despair from an indescribable dream still clings to him as he sneaks a hand down under the sheets to press against his hardness. He can’t help but hiss into his pillow as he tries to drown his sounds while still trying to cling to the feelings of the dream. 

Strong hands on his torso, holding him down as he jerks himself. He doesn’t feel fully like himself like this, the foggy feeling of being up way too early and still being half asleep, but the hand around his cock feels like heaven and that’s all he cares about. 

He clings to his pillow in desperation as he swears he feels a tongue on his neck, a pair of lips whispering and leaving marks. /du skal bare gøre det/ (just go ahead and do it) and he has to scrunch his eyes in disbelief as he hears Carl’s voice clearly in the room, taunting him, playing with him. He moans as he turns a little, trying to get his thrusts just right, circling his slick cock with his fist.

It takes only a few more thrusts and he’s coming all over himself, feels it landing on his naked chest, already damp with sweat from the dream. It’s probably the best orgasm he’s had in months and he feels embarrassed about the name that’s leaving his lips in a whine, making his toes curl with how good it all feels. Slowly he lets go of the pillow he was clutching and sighs as he feels how heavy his limbs are and contemplates how much he needs to clean up. Sleep overtakes before he gets to decide. 

The next morning he wakes from his alarm, the noise ringing through his head as he feels more exhausted than usual. It’s only when he gets into the shower and looks down at the stain of cum on his belly that he suddenly remembers his night adventures. Denial is his first thought and he immediately pretends he doesn’t remember what he was thinking about.

Assad’s late and Carl knows why, can almost smell it on him when he steps into their little dodgy office. Smells like papaya and lust. He gives Assad A look that says ‘you’re late’ without actually having to say the words out loud. “Prayers took a little longer this morning. Sorry ‘bout that.” Assads words a short and forced, he looks tired like he’s been up in the early hours of the morning but Carl lets it go, for now. Coffee perks his partner up and soon the day goes by as usual. 

Rose makes him smile as always and it’s easy for Assad to pretend it was her bouncy orange curls he was imagining this morning. He looks at her lips and despite himself makes a little prayer to help guide him. He knows god doesn’t fix things like this, but he also knows he’s not gay. 

Yet it wasn’t a soft plush body of a woman he was getting off to, it wasn’t even a human being, it was the thought of someone manipulating and telling him what to do, that did the trick. More like a feeling than anything physical

So, he had a thing for being dominated maybe, a girl could do that too, there were a few lurking around on Istegade (hooker street). A dominatrix, he could handle that. Maybe. If his dad had been alive he would have hit him for even considering it. 

Even if Assad had changed his way of thinking from growing up, there was still some of it ingrained thickly into his being. He respected women, they were soft and gentle and deserved love. Men could be soft too, he had seen some of his male colleagues cry, hugged them to make them feel better even, but never in his many years of living did he ever feel like he wanted to do more than that to a man. 

It was almost too easy, Carl could see Assad spacing out during his lunch break, deep in thought. And praying took a little longer? Carl knew it was Assad’s way Of frantically trying to grab at his roots, religion would cure his urges, sure. It made Carl roll his eyes.

A few more days go by and Assad can hardly remember why he was even upset in the first place. No weird urges or feelings creeping up on him and he’s back to sleeping regularly and chatting calmly with Rose. Carl decides he needs to do something about it. He’s bored for fucks sake. And he needs Assad to entertain him. 

Assad almost spills his coffee in shock as Carl throws a file on top of his existing paperwork. “Carl for fanden!!” (For fucks sake) Carl’s already sitting back down and Assad casually opens the file before freezing in his track, putting the coffee cup down safely. 

It’s an old unsolved case, much like all the others down here in department Q, but this one is a stab directly at Assad. A young Muslim boy disappeared, last seen 5 years ago in company of a well known pimp. Rumor had it he was a prostitute on the side and his father killed him in shame. Assad grinds his teeth and throws the file on the floor. “Det ikke sjovt det der, tror du det en joke?” (That’s not funny, you think it’s a joke?) 

Assad’s balling his hands into fists, this thing Carl’s playing is not fun anymore. This is his Fucking life, growing up with this kind of anger and hatred towards homosexuals and other ‘indecent people’, it scars you. 

Carl looks at him with that pointed look again, like he’s waiting for Assad to realize something, as if he wants Assad to confess or something. “We are working man? Can’t you just drop it? Whatever it is?” It’s starting to really get under his skin now, Carl being ‘cryptic’ with him, sending him ‘signals’ not knowing what the fuck is going on. But once again, nothing comes off it. Carl goes back to ‘normal’ -as normal as he can be- and Assad is left fuming at his desk.

It takes another all nighter for Carl to finally snap back into action on his plan to utterly ruin Assad. It had taken him a few days to figure out what he was gonna do because Assad had really seemed hurt by his last trick. 

Which was the point, but still, he wanted Assad to enjoy himself too, that was the best part. It’s 3 am and Carl is asleep on the desk. Or he pretends to be, because he knows Assad can’t help himself. It doesn’t take long before he feels the other mans gentle fingers on his head and shoulders, slowly guiding him up from the hard wooden desk and over towards the sofa. He’s not speaking but he can hear the little hitch in Assad’s breath as he leans in towards him, pretending to be too tired to care. Right before they reach the sofa he ‘trips’ and tangle their legs together. Assad makes a grunt of surprise and Carl puts his whole weight on him, trapping him on the sofa. It’s a neat trick but Assad’s not fighting him off like he hoped.

In his mind Carl was gonna fight him a little before holding him down with a wicked grin. Instead Assad caresses His curls and neck and eventually falls asleep himself. It catches Carl off guard, he wasn’t considering the fact that Assad had given up maybe, had accepted his urges or whatever. He couldn’t lie the hand in his hair felt nice, even the feeling of laying this close to another person, reminded him of happier times.

It only takes Carl a couple of hours before he has changed his mindset again. Taking a nap on top of Assad felt good and all but now the fun begins as he wakes up to the feeling of Assad’s hard-on poking his hip. He licks his lips and grinds down against Assad’s warm comfortable body. His partner is still asleep but he’s reacting to honestly, it makes the corners of his mouth curl up a bit.

He’s not moving much and not saying a word either but it’s somehow enough to make Assad flush and moan already. If he knew it would be this easy he would have tied the man down earlier. Carl’s clever hands are already sneaking their way inside Assad’s grey shirt and it’s genuinely making his cock twitch with how wicked his plan has become. 

Assad startles awake, feels the weight on top of him and feels claustrophobic immediately. Until he feels the tongue on his neck and this time it’s not just in his dream. He grabs at Carl’s hair and tugs his head away he knows its a little too harshly, but he’s angry. Carl’s eyes flutter shut for a second and he can’t help but moan, Assad’s rough treatment is making him buck his hips. “Det gør du fandme ik..” (You’re not fucking doing this). Assad’s angry, feels it in his blood, in his fingers still clutching at Carl’s hair. They are both laying still now, Carl waiting for Assad to throw him off and kick his ass but nothing happens.

This close to each other, He can feel Assad’s heart beat faster in his chest, but still he doesn’t move. He licks his lips again and Assad’s eyes dart down to trace it, his pupils dilating and Carl knows he’s got him. 

Assad sneers, shows his teeth a little and Carl’s heart goes racing, the thought of getting to ravish this big dumb gentle giant, and turning him into something impure, is turning him on so much. He presses his palm against Assad’s groin and slowly sticks his tongue out in an invitation and he can tell it breaks Assad’s heart to see him like this. 

To see his boss enjoying fucking with him. Assad doesn’t protest and he quickly slithers down to sit between his partners legs, opening his belt and zipper. Assad can’t believe his first blowjob from a man would be at work, by his fucking boss. There’s nothing romantic about it, Carl licks him from root to tip and swallows him whole like he’s starving. Which might as well be true because Carl feeds on misery.

Assad can feel the guilt and self hatred piling up in his chest, suffocating him and he tries to hide behind his arm, covering his eyes so he won’t see how deep Carl takes him in his mouth. Not that he can’t feel it, the wet slide of the other mans tongue around his dick, the slight hint of teeth that he’s carefully poking Assad with just to give it a bit of danger. 

It’s all too much and Assad bites his lips to keep quiet. Carl’s living for it, takes Assad’s spit slick cock in his hand and jerks it before covering the head with his mouth and sucks. Assad’s twitching in his hand and against the sofa pillows. He’s burying his face away and Carl can’t have that, they made it this far, might as well push it further.

Assad’s too tired and worn out to fight against Carl anymore, lets him have his way with his cock and hopes to god he’s not going to be judged in heaven for it. Not that he ever believed in it as much, but you never knew. 

Suddenly there’s cold air on his dick and he feels Carl climbing back up to sit on top of him, he doesn’t dare peek from behind his arm but it doesn’t matter because Carl is already forcing them away. He’s upset now, can’t Carl just let him have it like this? Hiding his shame away. Off course not, Carl wants it his way, all the fucking time. 

They still haven’t spoken about this thing that’s going on even if it’s teetering on assault. Assad’s looking up at him with such guilt ridden and confused eyes that he feels his own cock twitch against his pants. He gives it a squeeze through his pants but decides it deserves some fun too. Carl’s taking himself out of his pants, stroking his cock and finally taking both of their cocks together in his hand.

All while holding eye contact with Assad, who’s trying his best to keep his eyes open despite the pleasure. There’s a special kind of hell for someone like Carl, Assad thinks, shame making his cheeks flush a delicious red. 

Probably a spot next to Assad, taking into consideration that he hasn’t exactly thrown Carl off him yet. He wanted to but his hands feel so lovely around both of them. The lewd sounds of their cocks being jerked by Carl’s hand is making him want to moan, deep in his chest, but he’s still holding back. 

Carl unleashes his secret weapon, breaks eye contact and bends forwards to suck on Assad’s neck. It’s not like Assad forgot how lovely it felt to have Carl’s mouth on his dick but there’s definitely something going on here too. He must have never had anyone do it like this before because the way Carl sucks bruises into his neck and jaw is making him moan freely now.

He feels vulnerable and raw as Carl bites right on a perfect spot on his shoulder, making him buck up into the now sloppy jerks Carl’s providing, but it doesn’t matter cus he’s already coming. A low groan ripping its way out of his throat as He can feel Carl’s smirk against his neck, the shame eating him up inside but it feels so fucking good. 

He thanks the lord for their department being way down where it is, away from regular police folks and prying eyes. Nobody but Carl heard him but that’s almost worse, now Carl knows what he sounds like when he comes by the hand of another man. Unfortunately Carl’s not done with him, he sits back up with a lopsided smirk, that satisfied glint in his eyes as he moves forward, pinning Assad’s arms under his weight and caging his head in with his thighs. Assad’s never seen another mans cock this up close before and he doesn’t know what to do but flush bright red.

Carl knows what to do though, presses his leaking cockhead against Assad’s cheekbone and smears pre-cum on his face and beard. Assad can hardly breathe with Carl’s weight on his chest but still, he lets Carl do this to him, lets him shame him. 

“You look like you were born to do this..” Carl breaks the spell with his words and Assad feels his face flush more, with anger this time. It just makes Carl smile more, press his cock against Assad’s bit swollen lips and he savors the fact that he can still make Assad think about how much he’s going against how he was brought up, disappointing everyone. He thrusts forward a few times, holds his cock tightly and comes over Assad’s angry face, cum staining his frown and knitted brows. He fucking lives for this, hand clutching at the sofa for support as he sways forward a bit with the impact.

Assad’s still laying there, silently, even as Carl comes down from his orgasm high. It’s only when he smears the cum around on Assad’s beard that he feels his weight being lifted. Assad grips his hand tightly and pushes him off him, unto the floor even, before he storms off. He slams the door behind him for good measure. 

He really fucked him up now, he thinks as he lights a cigarette and starts smoking right there on the floor.


End file.
